


The Lion's Roar

by germanic



Series: Above Water: The Kamino Years [1]
Category: Star Wars: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Gen, Kamino Era, Pre-Clone Wars, Squad Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanic/pseuds/germanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walon Vau does not settle for less than perfection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion's Roar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kradeelav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kradeelav/gifts).



> Contains what can be considered graphic depictions of violence.

“You aren’t even trying.” His voice was not grating, rather, it was almost musical as he paced alongside the simulation, hands clasped behind his back. “Lazy shabuirs. Barely sweating, barely bleeding. You aren’t worth my time or the designation commando.”

He stopped, turning sharp on his heel, glancing back over the field. The sounds were piped in overhead, deafening everyone not wearing a helmet. The battlefield that had been recreated was one of pitted ground that was continued to be bombed by unseen mortars. There was even the faint smell of blood in the air. Vau, however, was still unimpressed, thinking it a glossed over matter. Did they assume all battlefields the same? Had that been Jango or the Kaminoans oversight? It was a grievous one either way.

The soldiers would find themselves on a world so unlike the one they had been prepared for, expecting clean ground when it would be anything but. Could soldiers used to running across simulated bare ground manage in the swamp? In the desert? In the tundra?

At this point, he thought, they could not even manage on the easy ground.

He looked at the strill at his feet, its black eyes focused on the field, watching the soldiers dart around. It was a constant cycle of standing and firing before retreating behind some nearby barrier. They looked no different than the other squads he trained, all of them without special designation and doing just the same work.

He resumed his pacing and shouting while they attempted to stop the droids that continued to fire at them. The bolts were not deadly but they were not painless either. That had been Skirata’s analysis after getting hit with one of them while he trained with the Nulls. Vau had no attention of discovering it for himself, although he suspected it could not be worse than what he had grown accustomed to.

Vau’s gaze flicked back to the clock, the time already dragging on longer than it had taken Skirata’s Nulls. Those boys had already completed this run by now, even with Skirata running behind them with his ankle in the state that it was. As the seconds continued to click away without progress made, Vau clicked his tongue. They were disappointing and he would not have that--

A shout took Vau’s attention from the clock and he searched the field for who had dared break silence with something other than verbal commands. The fallen one was clutching his shoulder, while the rest of Delta had pressed forward.

“One-one-forty,” Vau shouted, surging onto the field, the simulation coming to an end when he raised his hand. The droids that had once fired fell dead and the land and sound disappeared as quickly as it had come to exist. The rest of Delta stumbled from their advanced positions, starting to near their fallen comrade when Vau turned on them. “Step back, now.”

Only RC-1138 dared defy Vau’s command, taking on step closer. “But, Sir.”

“Step down, One-one-thirty-eight,” he roared and the soldier retreated back to the other men. Without another command, they stood more like the gawky man-children that they were. Fifteen years old physically, but only seven biologically they had always been told what to do during their lifetimes. Vau believed that if someone did not instruct them to breathe that they might have fallen to the ground, blue in the face.

Standing over the crumpled soldier, Vau looked something more like death. Dressed only in black armor with a beskad at his hip, he was styled more like an old-fashioned soldier that appeared in children’s storybooks. He was anything but.

While the fallen man tried to sit up, one hand still touching at his shoulder, Vau pushed him back with the heel of his boot. “No, stay down, One-one-forty. You are obviously defective.”

There was a sound of protest when the soldier fell back, back hitting steel. “I am not defective, Sir?”

“Aren’t you? You were unable to complete a simple task without being shot like a common man.” He dug his heel into the place where the blaster had caught the man, where he had cradled his shoulder. He continued until he heard the faintest whimper. “I thought so.”

Vau stepped back, hands still clasped behind his back, Delta fixing their eyes on him. He sashayed rather than march when he paced this time. It was an odd casualness that set them on edge.

“Did you know that Null-Class soldiers completed this course in under ten minutes? I believe the exact time was nine minutes and forty-five seconds. They did so with an aging sergeant running behind them who had a shattered ankle. Their time was completed when he reached the landing point, not when their leader did. Before I stopped it, it was ten minutes and two seconds and not even your squad leader was remotely close to the summit. Do you know what Null-Class stands for? It stands for the defective soldiers, the ones that were to be terminated because they were uncooperative. Perhaps they made a mistake with their labels. Perhaps I am training the correct Null-class.”

Delta was silent, their eyes on the ground now except for RC-1140 who still remained on the ground, afraid to stand without Vau’s command.

“You are all failures. You are all pathetic excuses for soldiers. You are defective products.” Vau’s gaze stayed on each of them for a second before falling again on RC-1140. “It would be in everyone’s best interest to have you terminated now for inefficiency. Commando class? I think not. Pathetic excuses for human males that are supposedly the best.” He pressed his lips tight together for a second. “Get up, RC-1140.”

While the man tried to without putting weight on the arm that had been hit, Vau knocked him back with the back of a gloved hand. The man fell back again, wincing in pain.

“Do you expect the enemy to take pity on you? To let you get up when you ache and bleed? Do you think they will nurse you back to care?” 

He threw a quick glance at the others who stood at attention, attempting to look more like soldiers than they seemed. 

“Do you think they will be kind to you? If you do, you are even stupider than I originally took you for. Fools, all of you. Defective fools who would be better to be reconditioned than left to breathe and waste my time. I came here to train what I was told was the best. Not to mother products that cannot even handle the most basic tasks.”

He stalked off, back to the sidelines where Mird sat, watching lazily. The rest of Delta scrambled while his back was turned to help lift RC-1140 to his feet. There, the four stood, unsure of what to do. Without a dismissal or a command, they feared trampling further on Vau’s frayed nerves.

By Mird, Vau removed his helmet, set it upon the ground, before turning back to look at them. “A sergeant with a shattered ankle completed the time before you. Four grown men, supposedly strong in body and mind. A man who has aged terribly can run a course in less time than you. Do you know what that means?”

“What, Sir?” RC-1138 echoed back, more on reflex than on want to know.

“That you are worth less than a man in his fifties. That for all of your genetic perfection, you are still failures. You are wastes of time, training and food. That you are nothing. That my time, all of my time, has been wasted on failures. And do you know what I think of that? I don’t care for it. I don’t care for it at all.”

Vau returned to them, each step slow and calculated. Yet, none of Delta moved.

“Stand down, One-one-thirty-eight, One-two-oh-seven, and One-two-sixty-two. Obviously, One-one-forty and I need to have a private lesson.”

The three stepped back, retreating towards where Mird lounged. They stood there at attention, unflinching while they watched. Vau allowed RC-1140 to stand before ordering him to attack. Yet, every blow that the man tried to strike was evaded. Instead, RC-1140 found himself hit by unseen punches. Then, Delta winced, as came the strikes from the beskad at Vau’s side.

Five minutes passed in a blur of motion before Vau stepped away, untouched, the faint gloss of red on the blade in his hand. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand as he went to pick up his helmet. The remainders of Delta did not move, the faint sense of fear rooting them in place. As much as they cared for their squadmate, they did not want to invoke Vau’s wraith as well.

Only after Vau had bent down to pat the strill’s head, beskad sheathed and helmet under his arm did he release them. It was a flippant command, one marked with a wave of his wrist. He left them there, returning to his own quarters, the strill running around his feet, looking at him as though he were the greatest good.

Lying on his side, blood starting to spot the ground, RC-1140 shuddered to breathe. His arms wrapped around his injured ribs, body too sore, too broken for him to stand. Quickly RC-1207 and RC-1262 moved to pick him up, settling that they could not move him fast without some pain. Led by RC-1138, they retreated to the medical ward, the weight of RC-1140 growing heavy on their shoulders.

Dying at the hands of Vau always stood as a likely possibility. However, it was understood, that it would not be a merciful death, not like the ones doled out by the Kaminoans who injected chemicals under the skin, into their veins, where it ran cold.


End file.
